


What Friends Are For

by mistleto3



Series: Yatamoto [1]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Childhood, Fake Dating, Fluff, M/M, abuse mention, k rarepair week 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 19:16:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9672458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistleto3/pseuds/mistleto3
Summary: Rikio is the most unfortunate combination of shy, quiet, submissive, and a little chubby that makes him a favourite target of the neighbourhood bullies, and Misaki refuses to stand by and watch his best friend get picked on.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A late submission for [K Project Rarepair Week 2017](http://k-rarepair-week.tumblr.com/post/153527043065/the-final-prompts-have-been-decided-all-days), Day 1: Beginnings.  
> Based on prompt 7: fake dating on tumblr sent by anonymous from [this](http://mistleto-3.tumblr.com/post/155303974434/send-me-a-ship-and-a-number-and-ill-write-a-short) list. 
> 
> This fic can also be found on [Tumblr](http://mistleto-3.tumblr.com/post/157146036514/what-friends-are-for-rikio-is-the-most)
> 
> This story is set when the characters are aged around 8/9 years old.

Misaki had always struggled to make friends- his peers usually thought he was too boisterous, or too uncool, or their parents didn’t want their children associating him because of his penchant for getting himself into fights. He had no siblings to play with, either- his little sister was just a baby, so he often ended up in his bedroom by himself after school with only his handheld games console for company.

That had changed when he’d met Rikio, though, who wasn’t bothered by his energy or his quick temper. In fact, he seemed to think Misaki was actually _cool,_ despite being a year older than him. Nobody had ever thought Misaki was cool before- it was a welcome change.  

Within a week, Rikio had begun to orbit him, asking his mother eagerly the minute he got home from school every day if he could go out and see his friend, listening with a look of fascination in his eyes to whatever he said, and laughing at all his jokes. Before they’d met, the pair had been in similar situations- since Rikio’s parents moved onto Misaki’s street from the other side of town, he hadn’t really gotten along with any of the other kids from their school or their neighbourhood. Both had been desperate for the companionship, for someone they could climb trees and ride bikes and skin their knees with instead of being stuck inside on their own, and glad to finally have that company, the pair very quickly became inseparable. But in one another they found more than just a companion; they found their foil, someone on the same wavelength as them. Misaki was small and quick and energetic and outgoing and fiery, while Rikio was bigger and slower, calmer, shier, more thoughtful, and they complemented each other in just the right way. Misaki brought Rikio out of his shell, and Rikio helped to rein in his friend’s hot head.

But the things that made Rikio such a good match for Misaki also made him an easy target- he was the most unfortunate combination of shy, quiet, submissive, and a little chubby that bullies seemed to be able to smell from miles out, and he drew insults the way a drop of blood drew sharks. He was used to just letting the abuse roll off him (or at least, pretending to) though- he never told his parents and he acted as though the teasing didn’t bother him, but Misaki could tell there was something off about him after any unsavoury encounters with the neighbourhood bullies. If he looked close enough, he could tell the insults were beginning to burrow beneath Rikio’s skin, and it made Misaki’s blood burn with rage.

There was only so much of it he could watch, only so long he could go along with Rikio’s assertions that he was “fine, really”. Even Misaki, who usually struggled to read other people’s emotions, could see it wasn’t true, and one afternoon, he decided enough was enough.

The incident that started it wasn’t even the worst he’d seen- a boy threw a handful of hard candies at Rikio as he rode past on his bike, while his friend beside him laughed and called him a fatty, and Misaki just… lost it. Something snapped in him, and he tasted copper in his mouth as, without thinking, he made a grab for a small chunk of tarmac, around the size of a golf ball, that had come loose from the pavement, and flung it as hard as he could at the head of the boy who’d shouted. It hit the back of his skull with a satisfying _crack,_ and the shock of the impact knocked him off balance. As he toppled off his bike, Misaki shouted from behind him:

“At least he ain’t ugly on the inside like you!” His voice dripped with venom.

Rikio had gone pale, and he glanced back and forth between his friend and the boy lying in the road in shock. “Yata… you didn’t need to…”

“You’re my best friend; I’m not just gonna stand here and let people pick on you. I know it gets to you.”

Rikio’s gaze dropped to his shoes in shame, evidently uncomfortable with having lied to his friend.

“Ya don’t have to pretend it doesn’t hurt, ya know. I know being teased sucks,” Misaki said, patting him on the arm awkwardly. He wasn’t sure how else to comfort him. “Come on, let’s go back to my place and get ice cream.”

Rikio nodded and followed Misaki back towards his home, shooting one last look over his shoulder at the kid who’d fallen off his bike, whose friend had doubled back to see if he was okay. He didn’t seem badly injured, but his elbow was bloody and he was crying. Misaki tried his best to suppress a smug smile at the sight of the bully in tears- it was hard not to take some pleasure in the instant justice.

The pair spent the rest of the afternoon inside, playing video games in Misaki’s room, but after an hour or so they were interrupted by Misaki’s mother knocking at the door.

When Misaki answered, his mother dropped to his level and asked gently: “Misaki, our neighbour is at the door, she told us you threw a rock at her son. Is that true?”

He avoided her gaze as he admitted to the transgression, then hastily added: “Only because her kid was throwing stuff at Rikio and calling him names!”

Mrs Yata nodded slowly, and thought for a moment before responding: “It’s good that you’re standing up for your friend, but remember to be the bigger person- an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, remember?” she said gently. “Try not to resort to getting violent… unless it’s absolutely necessary,” she added with a sly smile, then returned to the front door of their home to address their visitor. Misaki peered out of the door of his bedroom across the apartment to watch the exchange- the bully’s mother stood with her arms folded, tapping her feet with pursed lips and a sour expression.

Mrs Yata confronted her with her hands on her hips, her shoulders back and her head high in defiance. “I heard your son started the fight- he was calling the Kamamotos’ boy names and throwing things. Misaki was only protecting his friend, and I won’t tell him off for standing up for people who need his help.” Her voice was adamant, and a tad smug.

“Well, I-…” the mother began, her voice shrill and outraged.

“Are you suggesting I should teach my son that he should not stand up against injustices against people who can’t defend themselves?” she cut in.

The mother was silent for a moment, her mouth opening and closing as she scrambled for a response, evidently flabbergasted by Mrs Yata’s defiance.

“I thought so. I suggest you teach your own boy some manners before you come knocking at my door criticising my parenting. I will be sure to let Mrs Kamamoto know what your boy has been saying to her son,” she said firmly, then closed the door in the woman’s astounded face.

“Your mum is so cool…” Rikio whispered admiringly.

The teasing Rikio received from that boy and his friend dropped off sharply after that incident, but they weren’t the only bullies in the neighbourhood, and unfortunately, not everyone seemed to get the message that Misaki wasn’t tolerating any further mistreatment of his friend.

One particular girl seemed to have a particularly fierce vendetta against him- she was in Rikio’s class in school and lived in one of the wealthier neighbourhoods- her parents spoiled her, and she wasn’t used to being told “no” or not getting her own way. Apparently, something about Rikio bothered her, and she’d always been rude to him, spreading rumours and mocking him in the schoolyard, but there hadn’t been any major incidents. However, her grudge only grew more severe after Rikio scored higher than her in a test at school- she couldn’t stand to be one-upped, so now she’d set her mind on revenge.

Rikio had spent the week following the test scores coming home from school with a forlorn look on his face, and when pressed, he would admit to Misaki that it was her again, always with new insults, new ways of embarrassing him in front of his peers. Misaki was growing increasingly frustrated with the girl, but he hadn’t seen her outside of school, so hadn’t had an opportunity to say anything to her in his friend’s defence.

That changed one evening though, as she passed the pair on the park near their street.

“Rikio!” she called to him, her voice saccharine-sweet, and she hurried over with a smug, pompous smile on her lips. 

“What do you want?” Rikio’s response was quiet, subdued, and the expression on his face made Misaki’s heart swell with protective rage.

“Well, the high school is putting on a festival soon, and I want you to go with me.” As she spoke, the girl looked as though she was trying to suppress a haughty smile. She kept her eyes fixed on Rikio, and he shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.

“Huh?”

“Like, on a date. Come to the festival with me.”

Misaki narrowed his eyes as he realised what she was doing: asking Rikio out with the intention of humiliating and rejecting him if he said yes. He’d had seen this before, and been on the receiving end of it more times than he cared to admit.

Rikio had paled in response to the question, his mouth hanging open as he scrambled for an answer that would preserve his dignity. He was too kind to outright reject her, even if he knew she was just trying to tease him, and the discomfort on his face made Misaki seethe. He could feel his hands curling into fists at his sides as burning rage ignited in the pit of his stomach, like a struck match. His jaw was clenched so tightly that he could feel it shaking. He needed to do something, to step in and defend his friend, but he didn’t know what do to- if it had been someone else, he would have thrown a punch, but he couldn’t. As much as he _despised_ the girl in front of him, he couldn’t hit her. The only thing he remembered of his father was the bruises he used to leave on his mother, and he’d promised himself he would never lay a hand on a woman unless it was life or death.

“Don’t you want to be my boyfriend?” the girl pressed as Rikio struggled for words, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

“He can’t,” Misaki spat, the words tumbling out in a hurry before Rikio could be pressured any further. He saw his friend relax a little beside him at the intervention.

“Why not?” The girl’s eyes had narrowed, and she’d dropped the false simpering sweetness that she’d put on a few seconds beforehand, her expression changing as quickly as a light going out.

“Because…” _Crap…_ He scrambled for an excuse, and spat out the first that came to mind without thinking it through. “He’s already someone else’s boyfriend.”

Rikio stared at him in surprise, clearly alarmed by the response- he didn’t know what Misaki would say to her inevitable follow-up question:

“Really, who?” Her tone was scathing, and pouring with mocking disbelief.

“He’s _my_ boyfriend,” Misaki replied instantly, reaching out to seize Rikio’s hand. It was the first thing he could think of to say- he knew saying he was dating some girl at another school that nobody knew would reek of a lie, and this seemed like the most convincing alternative.

The girl turned bright red, evidently unprepared for this outcome, and she didn’t seem to know what to say.  

“So leave him alone. I know you can’t stand that someone’s smarter than you, but that’s no reason to be such an ass to him. Lay off, or I’ll tell the whole school you asked him out and got rejected.”

Her cheeks burning and her mouth hanging open with rage, the girl turned on her heel and stormed away, and Rikio and Misaki burst into poorly-stifled laughter as soon as she was just about out of earshot.

It took them a moment before the giggles subsided, and when they did, Rikio looked over to his friend, smiling, and said: “Thank you… I don’t know what I would have said if you hadn’t been here.” Then he paused, and his smile faded. “Sorry for being such a burden…”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re always going out of your way to defend me because I can’t do it myself.”

“You’re not a burden. It’s not your fault you’re too nice to say mean stuff back to people who say it to you. It’s like my mum says: you’re the bigger person. That’s not bad.”

Rikio sighed, a small smile flickering across his lips. “Thanks…” Their hands were still linked, and he squeezed Misaki’s palm gratefully.

“’S what friends are for.”

 


End file.
